


Christmas at the Rickmans

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [49]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff and Humor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Presents, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: An evening spent with Alan Rickman and his family on Christmas Eve. Fluff to follow!!
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Child, Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Christmas at the Rickmans

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

The strong smell of pine sap hangs low in the air, soft notes of The Nutcracker playing throughout the London flat before a sudden ring of the landline disturbs the small family of four's peace.

"If Daddy has to get up one more time, Mummy's gonna cut that phone's cord," (Y/N) says playfully in a baby voice to her two-month-old daughter, Amelia, where she's holding her in her lap on the carpet in the den.

The tiny babe's recently discovered laughter fills the room as her mother tickles her clothed belly gently.

"Aly, can you hand Mumma that bottle, please," she points to the pink Tommee Tippee bottle on the coffee table.

"He' you go," Alyson says sweetly as she hands her mother the bottle with luke-warm milk.

"Thank you, my sweet."

Aly kneels down next to her mother and baby sister, staring in awe at the baby's movements.

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?" (Y/N) runs her hand through Aly's sandy brown bob before slinging her arm around her body from behind.

"She so cute!" Aly giggles.

"Ha! She sure is," she places a soft kiss on her three-year-old's temple.

"Phone's off the hook," Alan declares as he re-enters the slightly chilly den and settles himself on the carpet with a grunt next to where Alyson has now moved, opposite his wife and new daughter.

"Ah, good. I don't know why people don't just send Merry Christmas texts anymore," (Y/N) states while feeding Amelia her bottle. "Who was it anyway?"

"Emma, wishing us a Happy Christmas. Says she misses us at her Christmas party," Alan raises his eyebrows. "You could hear they are having a good time in the background."

"Hm."

Both adults spoke earlier about how they'll be missing Emma's famous Christmas party this year. Last year, they made the choice of taking a sickly Alyson with them which only resulted in both an ill child and an ill husband. What they wouldn't give to be submerged in that party scene again. Drinking, eating, dancing. Having an overall good time. But alas, times have changed, and this Christmas, as well as future Christmases, will be spent with their growing family.

"She also insisted that the presents the children open tonight be hers that she gifted, hence why I placed them underneath the tree earlier."

"We get prezzies tonight?" Aly's face lights up in delight.

"Of course you do," (Y/N) chuckles at Alyson's excitement. Only one, though," she holds up one finger. "But Daddy has to light the fireplace, first. It's getting cold in here."

"Cozying up the place, are you?" Alan looks mildly amused over at his wife.

Ever since Alan has been on his own as a young adult, the only way he celebrated Christmas Eve was by getting pissed with friends or sometimes by himself, followed by a hungover Christmas Day meal at his brothers' or sister's place. As he got older, he would just spend the evening reading while nursing a glass of Whiskey.

However, Christmas is (Y/N)'s favourite holiday of the year, and since they started dating, he'd spent Christmas with her and her family. After having Alyson, they started making up their own Christmas traditions - a mixture of a British and South African Christmas. They'd spend Christmas Eve with just their small family, each opening one present. Contrary to (Y/N)'s family traditions, on Christmas morning, they'll take the time to open the rest of the presents with Alyson, and now Amelia, too, and by lunchtime, they'll have a Christmas feast with all of Alan's siblings and their families.

Food usually consists of roast turkey, roast veg, and all the trimmings. Which means vegetables like carrots and peas, stuffing, and sausages, and bacon. Desert is usually (Y/N)'s amazing Christmas Pudding. Sheila always insists that it's not a proper Christmas without marzipan covered fruitcake, which no one ever wants to eat.

His brother, Michael, will have the sixteen seater table decorated in greens, golds, and reds. He'll also decorate it with candles and Christmas flowers, and each person gets a Christmas cracker.

And of course, they all celebrate with a big ol' pile of dishes at the end of the night.

"It's not proper holiday aesthetic without the basic things, you know?" She looks up at him, adjusting Amelia against her chest as she lightly burps the child.

"Those things being...?"

"A decorated tree, hot chocolate, Christmas music, and a crackling fire."

He looks across the room at the medium-sized evergreen pine tree decorated in red, green, and gold ornaments, warm yellow Christmas lights rounding it off nicely. _Check._

His attention is diverted to his wife bringing the steaming hot chocolate up to her lips. _Check._

Christmas music is already playing over the surround sound. _Check._

_Indeed, she is correct. The only thing missing is the fire._

"You want to help me put the logs on?" He presses on Alyson's belly button, making her giggle, before she nods her head.

She grabs her father's tubby hand before he leads her out the backdoor to where he placed the logs earlier.

He shudders as the icy night wind surrounds them before he bends down to pick up three good-sized logs, turning around as Aly shrieks in excitement.

"The kitty!"

Since last week, a stray cat has found its way through to the garden square, much to the children's delight. Alan at first didn't want anything to do with it, but after (Y/N) felt sorry for it and kept on putting food out for it, Alan has kind of grown used to the cat's presence.

He watches in amusement as his daughter attempts to pick up the large black cat in her tiny arms.

The cat meows, struggling in Alyson's grip, the girl now giggling.

"No, don't. You're grabbing him by the... boy parts," he clears his throat.

"But he's purring," she replies innocently.

"He's confused is what he is," Alan chuckles before safely removing the cat from her hold, setting it down on top of the white round iron wrought table.

"Come on, Mummy will be upset if we take too long," he rubs the cat behind its ear before grabbing the rest of the logs, and escorting Alyson back into the house.

"Happy Christmas," he calls quietly back at the cat.

"Don't you just love the smell of Christmas?" (Y/N) breathes in as Alan finishes lighting the fire.

"Hm," he agrees. "It's been a long time since we had champagne on Christmas, too," Alan says as he pours two generous glasses of the bubbling gold liquid, setting the bottle down on the mantelpiece.

He stretches his hand out, handing (Y/N) a glass before settling Alyson into his lap on the carpet.

"Daddy?" Alyson looks earnestly up at Alan as he takes a sip of his champagne.

"Yes, my darling?" A soft frown settles between Alan's eyebrows as he waits expectantly for his daughter's reply.

"Are you a grandpa?" She asks in all seriousness as chestnut eyes stare into similar chestnut eyes.

(Y/N) nearly chokes on her champagne and coughs lightly to cover it up, the baby now protesting against her mother's erratic movements. She looks over at Alan as he goes all quiet, his smile running away from his face.

She knows that question hit a nerve.

Heat spreads across Alan's face and he's not too certain whether it's from the embarrassment or the champagne. He clears his throat awkwardly and looks past his daughter at the licking flames.

"No, darling. That would mean you'd have to have children of your own for Daddy to be a grandpa," (Y/N) blurts out the only line she can think of that could save the situation, while lulling Amelia back into comfortable silence.

"Ooh! That's silly!" Alyson bursts out laughing, slightly easing the tension.

"How about we open Aunt Emma's gifts now, eh?" (Y/N) tries to change the subject.

"Good idea," Alan replies relieved. "Aly, see those two red boxes?" He points to the only two wrapped presents under the tree. "Bring those over here."

She waddles over before heaving one large box within Alan's reach, and then the other.

"Here, I'll help her open this. You take Melly," she hands the slightly fussy baby over to him along with her burp cloth.

Much to (Y/N)'s dismay, Amelia immediately calms as she settles in Alan's arms, smiling up at him. She's comfortably warm and smells like a clean baby, having had a bath just moments earlier, now dressed in her red and white Christmas footy pajamas - matching Alyson's.

He'll never get used to staring into the faces of his two little girls, his own reflections staring back at him.

(Y/N) gathers Alyson into her lap before setting the red box down in front of them. They start by removing the large golden bow before slowly opening the lid.

Alyson gasps in excitement as (Y/N)'s smile grows.

"Do you love it?" (Y/N) asks hopeful.

"Ah, I love it, Mummy!" She tiny hands cover both her cheeks before she heaves the Paddington suitcase into her lap.

(Y/N) runs her fingers over the authentic leather brown box suitcase, the customised black initials reading: AER (Alyson Emma Rickman).

"Oh, it's beautiful, darling..." she breathes in awe.

"Open it up," Alan instructs with a smile on his face. "Emma said there's something else inside."

"Let's open it up," (Y/N) reaches around Alyson, popping the golden latches open.

Another gasp from Alyson. This time, a Paddington themed tea set.

_Emma sure knows what Alyson's been asking for the entire year. Perhaps Alan told her during conversation._

"Can we play with it, Mummy, please?" She begs, looking up at her mother with hopeful eyes.

_How could you say 'no' to this?_

"Ooh, Bubba, it's getting rather late. But I promise we can all have a tea party tomorrow morning at breakfast, okay?"

Alyson smiles wide before staring down at the box with her new favourite tea set.

"Amelia's next," he moves the box closer to (Y/N) with his bare foot.

"Oh, it's light," she shakes the box gently.

Upon opening, a beautiful vintage stuffed bunny is revealed wearing a blue denim jacket - the classic Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit, ASR (Amelia Sidney Rickman) embroidered in pink under its foot. Also, in the box, four original signed first copies of Beatrix Potter's nursery books.

She reads the attached Christmas card out loud: "It's only fair that I shower Amelia with Peter Rabbit paraphernalia since I've done the same for Alyson with Paddington. Apologies that it took two months for Amelia to receive hers. Happy Christmas, my two goddaughters. Aunt Em."

"Could we have chosen a better godmother for the children?" (Y/N) holds the books up to Alan.

He shrugs with a smile, "She is known for her gift-giving."

"This is incredible. We'll have to ring her tomorrow and thank her," she instructs Alyson who replies with a nod as her tiny chestnut eyes are now fixated on the suitcase. 

"Well, looks like the day has taken its toll on Melly," Alan indicates to a sleeping Amelia against his chest.

"Oh, poor baby," (Y/N) coos just as Aly gives a loud yawn, nearly toppling over. "Looks like someone isn't far behind."

"You ready for bed, my sweet?" Alan asks.

"No," she protests quietly. "We still have to put mince pies out for Father Christmas."

"Yes, we do. The quicker we do that, the quicker he'll be here," (Y/N) pulls herself off the floor and is lead into the kitchen by a determined young tod.

They quickly fill a glass with brandy and set out three mince pies on a plate. With the help of her mother, Alyson sets the plate and glass on the mantelpiece along with a note Aly wrote earlier, thanking Christmas Father and all his reindeer, and of course asking for a very long list of presents.

"Right, off to Bedfordshire," Alan instructs as he stands at the bottom of the staircase with a sleeping Amelia against his chest, waiting on his wife and daughter.

"Can I say goodnight to Melly?" Alyson asks earnestly as they all walk quietly into the dimly lit nursery upstairs.

Alan gently places Amelia into her crib, adjusting the blanket on top of her, before leaning down and placing a peck on her chubby cheek.

"Happy Christmas, darling."

He picks Alyson up and leans her over the edge of the railing so she can also kiss her younger sister goodnight.

He carries Alyson to her own room as (Y/N) stays behind in the nursery to shut off the lights and turn on the overhead mobile.

She takes the time to admire her sleeping daughter's face, illuminated rabbits dancing across the room. How long they've tried for her. How long they've waited on her arrival.

"Merry Christmas, my sweet," she leans down and softly kisses her forehead.

(Y/N) shuffles tiredly over to Alyson's room, welcomed by giggling coming from both Alan and Alyson.

"Right, you two. Time for bed."

"Oop, Mumma is laying down the law," Alan says lowly to his eldest daughter.

"Night-night, Daddy. Love you," Alyson wraps her arms around his neck tightly after he tucks her into her bed.

"I love you, my sweet. Happy Christmas," he whispers back before turning and leaving for downstairs.

"Night-night, Mumma. Love you," she says the same to (Y/N) as she switches off the main lights and turns on the starry bed light.

"Mumma loves you so much, Aly-bear. Merry Christmas, see you in the morning," she peppers Alyson's neck with kisses.

"Penny for your thoughts?" (Y/N) asks as she comes quietly down the stairs, spotting Alan in front of the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, staring into the crackling fire.

"Just thinking that someone has to take all these Christmas lights down at some point."

She wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek on his back.

"We can leave the Christmas lights up until January. This is our place, we make the rules," she sings the famous lines from Taylor Swift's _Lover._

"Ha!" He chuckles, knowing how much she and Alyson listens to that song.

"And besides, I think the girls like the ambience," she sighs contempt.

He twists her around him, holding her safely in his grasp as he stares down into her chocolate orbs.

"The problem is, I think, there are too many girls in this household. I'm outnumbered."

"I think we should try for a boy."

His words are low, his tone serious.

She chuckles, "I don't think you'd cope well with a boy, my dear. You're too soft!"

He stares down at her, his gaze intent as he raises one eyebrow knowingly at her.

"Alan Rickman, are you broody?" She untangles herself while keeping him at arm's length.

"Perhaps..." he shrugs, not letting go of her just yet.

"So," she continues shyly, trying to change the subject, "what did you get me for Christmas?"

His lips pierce together, his eyes wondering past her as he pretends to think, "Hmmm... charcoal and cat shit."

"Ooh, just what I've wanted all year. Really, you're too good for me," she giggles.

"And since you asked, it's only fair of me to do the same," he lets go of her before turning to the coffee table and handing her her second glass of champagne.

"What did you get me?"

"Rogaine and Viagra," she grins before taking a long sip of the bubbly liquid.

His eyes go wide before he splutters, "You little shit!"

He's laughing far too hard to even be remotely serious.

"Shh, you'll wake the children," she laughs quietly before taking a seat on the sofa.

He joins her, his laughter dying down before he says, "that was absolutely brilliant."

He moves her legs to rest across his lap, sticking his hand inside the bottom of her pajama pant leg, resting his hand on her calf.

"Who were you hoping I'd use the Viagra for?" He takes another sip of his third glass with a sensually smug expression.

(Y/N) nearly chokes on her sip of champagne, coughing to release the small amount of liquid that flew straight to the back of her throat.

"I wasn't... I wasn't serious, you know?" She wheezes.

"Weren't you?" He purrs, leaning closer to her.

_Dammit, my hormones can't take this much, especially so close after the birth. If he doesn't stop now, baby number three might just be well in the making._

"You know, I wish you wouldn't do that," she growls, pushing him against his shoulder before resting her head against her hand.

"Do what?" He arches his eyebrows famously, not even acting surprised anymore.

"Try to seduce me by way of challenge," she pulls the throw down the back of the sofa and covers their bodies with it. "You know damn well what you're doing, so don't deny it."

He places his empty glass on the coffee table and raises his unoccupied hand in mock surrender, "I neither admit nor deny anything. I'm just making Christmas Eve conversation."

He leans back against the sofa, his eyes heavy from the alcohol.

(Y/N) looks in admiration over at her husband as the fire casts yellow shadows against his chiseled features, his hair mussed and his face slightly red as he grins from ear to ear.

_Is he... drunk?_

"What?" She asks amused as he rolls his head against the sofa, looking over at her.

"Are you going to shave?"

She feels his hand running up and down her leg inside her pants.

"I just shaved my legs last night," she says in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"I'm talking about your mustache," he jabs playfully.

"Oh, bugger off!"

He grunts then laughs a joyous laugh as she slaps him lightly against the shoulder, the grandfather clock chiming twelve times.

"Happy Christmas, my love," Alan leans in closer and kisses her on the lips, the pungent smell of cologne and sweat from his body, and alcohol on his breath circling around her nostrils.

"Merry Christmas, Al," she smiles infatuated at him before they both stare back into the fireplace, still holding each other tightly.


End file.
